Yesterday I returned to the land I love best on this earth, Jackson Hole, Wyoming and the most magnificent mountains ever, The Grand Tetons. They were so named, story has it, by French trappers who were reminded of women's breasts when seeing the mountains. Leave it to a Frenchman, Oooh, La La! Maybe it was Frenchwomen who named them!
Last night I camped by a river in the Gros Ventre area of the Hole. An earthquake recreated some of the terrain east of the campground, in 1950 (or so).There are a mother Great Horned Owl and her two fledglings in a tree at the camp. The most beautiful birds ever. Hard to see in the photo; look closely.***
Last night I camped by a river in the Gros Ventre area of the Hole. An earthquake recreated some of the terrain east of the campground, in 1950 (or so).There are a mother Great Horned Owl and her two fledglings in a tree at the camp. The most beautiful birds ever. Hard to see in the photo; look closely.***
Some of the nostalgia from 1967-1968 grabbed me last night, filling me with some sadness for days gone by but also with a deep gratitude to be able to return to all this beauty and my spiritual home.
At any rate, to me, these mountains carry special memories for me from my days working on Spotted Horse Ranch on the Hoback River, 20 miles South of the town of Jackson. That experience was the most wonderful time of my life (I've had many good times, though). Today I am meeting with my old work buddies,Gayle and Lenny Francis and Jerry Amadon, here in Jackson. Lenny and Jerry were Wranglers. Lenny was the real cowboy; Jerry did most of the carpentry and other construction installations on the ranch. Gayle and I were what they called Cabin Girls. Sounds risque, I know,but it's not what one might think. We cleaned toilets and sinks re-made beds, served meals and did dishes for the dudes. Because I could sing and play guitar, I also entertained the guest in the lodge bar at night. We also had some time to ride horses up into the high country that surrounded the ranch and dip into the ice-cold Hoback River on hot days. The four of us are going to visit with Dick and Dian Bess, our former ranch employers and former owners of Spotted Horse.
At any rate, to me, these mountains carry special memories for me from my days working on Spotted Horse Ranch on the Hoback River, 20 miles South of the town of Jackson. That experience was the most wonderful time of my life (I've had many good times, though). Today I am meeting with my old work buddies,Gayle and Lenny Francis and Jerry Amadon, here in Jackson. Lenny and Jerry were Wranglers. Lenny was the real cowboy; Jerry did most of the carpentry and other construction installations on the ranch. Gayle and I were what they called Cabin Girls. Sounds risque, I know,but it's not what one might think. We cleaned toilets and sinks re-made beds, served meals and did dishes for the dudes. Because I could sing and play guitar, I also entertained the guest in the lodge bar at night. We also had some time to ride horses up into the high country that surrounded the ranch and dip into the ice-cold Hoback River on hot days. The four of us are going to visit with Dick and Dian Bess, our former ranch employers and former owners of Spotted Horse.
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